


Lemon Cakes and Blue Roses

by graceverse



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Plot? What Plot?, Robb Stark is a Gift, Robb is just mildly suspicious and yet still clueless, post ASOFAI in chapter 2, pre-canon jonsa, pre-canon sibling relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-21 21:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceverse/pseuds/graceverse
Summary: Darkness surrounded him and twelve year old Robb Stark felt a thrill of excitement as he slowly made his way inside Winterfell’s large kitchen.Or a short fluffy fic where Robb and Jon both planned on surprising Sansa on her ninth name day.





	1. Robb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BellaStark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaStark/gifts).



> Surprise! Happy birthday BellaStark :) hope you enjoy this.

Darkness surrounded him and twelve year old Robb Stark felt a thrill of excitement as he slowly made his way inside Winterfell’s large kitchen. His eyes had already adjusted to the low lights from the few candles that were left burning on the table where meals were prepared. It was brighter here than in the hallways where he had stealthily walked from his bedroom, passing the Lord’s Chamber and finally scrambling outside the mildly cold early morning. The kitchen was kept as a separate building, ensuring that if there was an accident; fire would be easily contained and would not spread throughout Winterfell.

Inside the kitchen, a low fire was kept for the pottage which smelled absolutely, mouth-wateringly wonderful. Robb made a mental note to ask for their cook, Gage to give him some later but it wasn’t enough to distract him from his mission, though.

He crept softly towards where the castle’s supplies were kept and was extremely careful when he lifted the wooden bar that had kept the storeroom closed. There was no lock; he had made sure of that one week prior, when the idea first formed inside his head. There was a slight creaking sound when he opened the door and he stopped, heart hammering inside his chest.

It was too early for anyone to be awake, no one in the castle should be up yet but it wasn’t as quiet, there were a few snoring stable boys that were sleeping on the kitchen floor, near the fire to keep them warm and he could faintly hear the animals outside starting to wake and move around. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before digging his hands inside his pocket to check the small parchment where he had written the list of things he needed:

Refined flour. Salt. Buttermilk. Eggs. Sugar. Butter. And of course, Lemon. Lots of lemons.

Robb figured he could fit all these on a burlap sack that he had brought. He knew he had to be careful with the eggs. They were too fragile and he would most likely break them inside the sack. He frowned and let out a curse (a new word he’d learned from the stable boys. Mother would be horrified) but then he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to bring the cake hoop that needed to be lined with butter. He’d put the eggs inside the cake tin. It should be safe there.

Robb made sure he got everything he needed before hurriedly putting the wooden bar back where it had been. He looked at door of the storeroom for a moment and satisfied that nothing looked out of the ordinary, he sprinted out, hugging the burlap sack.

He hoped no one would notice that anything was missing. He didn’t take too many, just enough to bake a small cake for Sansa’s ninth name day. He wanted to surprise her and if he told Gage that he wanted a cake to be baked, the whole castle would eventually find out. Gage wasn’t a gossip, but his wife was. Father always told Mother everything and he assumed it would be the same for Gage.

Anyway, he wasn’t going to do all the baking by himself. He had already asked the help of one of the servant girls. He didn’t even have to use his charm too much, there were certain perks, being the son of Lord Eddard Stark and he wasn’t quite oblivious to the lingering, admiring looks he had been getting of late. He’d be thirteen soon. A man almost. And he couldn’t wait for his own birthday. But today was Sansa’s and he wanted to do something special for his sister.

Robb liked her best amongst his siblings. Precious Sansa who always looked adoringly up at him with blue eyes almost the same shade as his. She always favored him whenever they played Knights and Princess. And she would very kindly and gently comb Grey Wind’s fur, while she sweetly sang songs. Robb loved all of his sisters and brothers equally, but he was especially fond of Sansa who he had vowed, as a young boy, to always protect and treasure, just as his father had asked him to when Sansa had been born.

Robb was about to enter the castle’s side door when he felt someone watching him. He stiffened and swallowed a scream when something brushed against his legs.

“Fuck’s sake! Ghost!” Robb hissed as Jon’s direwolf sat down in front of him, tilting his head and giving him a curious look.

“What’s inside the sack?” His half-brother suddenly asked from beside him.

Jon was as silent as Ghost and Robb almost yelped in surprise but thankfully he was able to remain calm. He knew of course that Jon would be nearby. Jon and Ghost were never far from each other. He just didn’t think Jon would be standing right beside him without him noticing it. 

“Nothing.” Robb quickly said, sounding both guilty and defensive. He wanted everything to be a surprise! And although he and Jon were close as true brothers, Robb had imagined everyone gasping in wonder as he handed Sansa her lemon cake as his birthday gift. Lemon cakes were Sansa’s favorite.

Jon merely raised his dark eyebrows, his eyes full of mirth. Robb wondered what was Jon doing outside so early in the morning and then he noticed that Jon kept both his hands behind his back and suddenly, Robb smelled the sweet scent of something flowery ---- roses, he realized with a start. Robb looked at Jon and frowned, trying to peek at what Jon was hiding. “Are those blue roses?”

Sansa also loved blue roses.

Seems like he wasn’t the only one who had planned on surprising Sansa. But he wondered why Jon would bother. He and Sansa barely talked to each other.

“Mind your business.” Jon told him, suddenly turning somber, taking two quick steps back.

Robb rolled his eyes. Jon was kind and brave, never ratted out to father if they ever fought, he was also fun to be with and can come up with the silliest of jokes but he would sometimes turn defensive over the most stupidest thing. “Never mind. I know what it’s for anyway.”

“No you don’t.” Jon huffed.

“Yes I do. See, look. I’m baking Sansa lemon cakes for her birthday.” Robb said, showing Jon the partly opened sack. The scent of lemons wafted in the air. Jon looked down, lips pursed.

“You? Baking?” There was mildly impressed tone in Jon’s voice which he tried to hide by smirking at Robb.

“Alright. Not me exactly.” Robb replied, exasperated. Lords don’t bake! He wanted to argue, but he didn’t say it out loud. He hated that Jon was a bastard and he didn’t want to always remind him of that. “I asked someone else to bake it for me. I want Sansa to like the cake and not be poisoned by it.” He added truthfully.

Jon gave him a long look before grinning slowly. “You’re a good brother, Robb.” He said finally.  

Robb returned the smile, pleased to hear Jon say so. “So are you.” He said, gesturing at Jon’s bouquet of blue roses.

Jon visibly reddened and Robb felt strangely sorry for him. “Do you think she’ll like it?” Jon asked, suddenly shy.

Robb nodded. “She will. She’ll love those.” He hoped Jon believed him and if anything, Robb was sure that Sansa would be utterly delighted to receive those flowers. Robb briefly whished his Lady Mother would allow Jon to present his gift. He silently prayed that mother would not turn up her nose and give Jon that cold smile. Robb loved his mother with all of his heart, but sometimes he wished Lady Catelyn wasn’t so mean to Jon. He was young, true, but Robb understood why mother was never nice to his bastard half-brother. But surely, it wasn’t Jon’s fault? And Jon should not be punished it for. Perhaps when Robb was older he could talk to his mother about the way it hurt him when Jon was treated so unfairly. Mother would listen to him, wouldn’t she?

Maybe he should give Sansa the same talk too, Robb realized. He had seen Sansa imitating the way their mother looked at Jon and that would probably explain why Jon seemed eager to get into Sansa’s sweet side. Sansa _had_ always been nice to Jon. It was only now that she had gotten older when she seemed aware of Jon’s status as a bastard.

“Alright, then.” Jon muttered, looking away.

“Alright.” Robb echoed.

From inside the kitchen they both heard Vayon Poole waking up the stable boys. Farlen, their kennelmaster was also awake, his booming voice filled the morning as he greeted Mikken and Barth.

They each gave each other a silent look: don’t tell anyone. They nodded at the same time, a silent understanding passing between them, before turning the other way and running, Robb towards the castle and Jon, followed by Ghost, to the washing well.

Robb briefly wondered why and then realized, _for the flowers._ Something nagged at the back of his mind but he was too worried that he will be discovered traipsing inside the castle when he ought to be still in bed to think about anything else.

Worst, they’d find him with the ingredients for Sansa’s lemon cake and that will surely be the end of his surprise! The whole castle will be awake in no time and he needed to get back to his room, hide the ingredients and get ready for their breakfast. And then he had to figure out how to get those ingredients to Rosa, who had agreed to help him bake the cake.

It was going to be a long day!


	2. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa Stark sat on the bed, wrapped in a light grey wool blanket. She smiled as her husband handed her a bouquet of winter blue roses. She felt her face flush and she mildly chided herself for acting like some love struck young girl. She was no longer that and for a while she had feared that she might have become too embittered to ever fully appreciate the warm giddy feelings of being loved and cared for. But here she was, feeling suddenly young and trembling over such a simple gesture.

Sansa Stark sat on the bed, wrapped in a light grey wool blanket. She smiled as her husband handed her a bouquet of winter blue roses. She felt her face flush and she mildly chided herself for acting like some love struck young girl. She was no longer that and for a while she had feared that she might have become too embittered to ever fully appreciate the warm giddy feelings of being loved and cared for. But here she was, feeling suddenly young and trembling over such a simple gesture.

“Happy Nameday, wife.” Jon said as he sat next to her dropping a quick kiss on her forehead and with the tips of his nose still touching her, he slid his face lower so he can properly kiss her on her lips and then her jaw and finally, the arch of her neck where he spent a few seconds sucking the skin and gently flickering his tongue to soothe the mark he’d made.

Sansa shivered as she pulled Jon closer, crushing his gift between them, the sweet heady scent of roses surrounding them. It was still early morning, the castle’s inhabitants have yet to wake up but Jon had already made his yearly visits to the glass house to gather blue roses for her nameday. “Thank you, husband.” 

It had been three years since the Long Night and the defeat of the Night King and dragons. Three years since Jon Snow, a Targaryen prince, had refused the Iron Throne and had declared himself a Northerner forever. Daenerys had sacrificed her life to save the realm and she was to be the last Targaryen. Jon had not wanted the name, the legacy or the claim. With startling vehemence Jon had vowed in front of all that had survived the battle that he will never sail South ever again and if he ever did, it will be to melt that ghastly throne and not sit upon it.

It had taken Tyrion Lannister and the rest of the remaining Noble Lords to decide who should sit on the Iron Throne and when the decision was announced, no one had been more surprised than Gendry Baratheon, King Robert’s last remaining bastard son. King Gendry, first of his name, had decreed The North’s independence, at which point, the Vale and The Trident had declared that they will bow to no one but the King and Queen in the North.

The Iron Island also pleaded for their independence and Gendry, after persuading his council that another war will only waste what few precious resources the kingdom have left, declared that the Trident and The Vale shall belong to The North and that The Iron Island shall have its independence, provide that they stop pillaging Northern Villages. And should any Iron Born ever commit another crime against the North, there will be nothing left of their island. It will suffer the wrath of both The North and The South. Yara Greyjoy swore that The Iron Born shall keep the peace.

Dorne, Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken, also wished for their independence, which Gendry also allowed amidst Tyrion’s many protests. Tyrion had reminded Gendry that there were taxes that will be lost and the Kingdom’s coffer would be emptied if he kept giving ever house clamoring for it's independence. Gendry wisely told Tyrion that he shall be appointed then to handle the trading between all the different Kingdoms. Who else to better manage the inflow and outflow of money but the last remaining Lannister. Davos was to be Gendry’s Hand. Tyrion seemed pleased with that and had promised that there will be fair trade and a thriving commerce throughout the land.   

All the remaining houses were too loyal to the throne and so Gendry was known as the "King Who Gave Away Kingdoms". But the people loved him nonetheless because he was also the "King Who Brought Peace and Plenty to the Land".

Needless to say, it was Arya Stark who asked Gendry to melt the Iron Throne as his wedding gift for her, which her future husband had been more than happy to oblige and together, they ruled what remained of the South.

Jon and Sansa did not marry right away. There were too many wounds that needed to be healed but when spring finally arrived, they both found themselves inside the glass garden and Jon had made a startling confession: 

_I used to leave winter roses on your door for your birthday._

It came out of nowhere; even Jon seemed surprise that he would divulge a secret kept for so long.

Sansa had wordlessly stood in front of Jon, blinking back tears as she remembered the bouquets of blue roses that had first appeared of her ninth birthday. It had only stopped when they all left Winterfell but she remembered waking up every morning on her name day to find glorious blue roses placed in front of her chamber door. She remembered how delighted she had been to find them and how she had wondered who had given her such a lovely gift.

When Jon finally revealed that it had been him all along, all those years ago, something inside Sansa that had hardened over the years of war and sorrow melted, like the last snow on an especially bright spring morning, and for the first time in a long while, she found herself feeling warm. Truly wonderfully warm.

They married the following month and Jon took the Stark name and once again, she received winter roses for her birthday.

“Do you remember Robb’s lemon cake?” Jon murmured softly against her shoulder.

Sansa laughed. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

Robb had asked one of their servant girls to help him bake a lemon cake for her ninth birthday (like the winter roses, it had become somewhat of a tradition, that on her name day, she receives lemon cake from her brother Robb and blue roses from a secret admired). Robb hadn’t meant to make the cake ( _Lords don’t bake cakes!_ He had jokingly grumbled to her once) but it turned out that the servant girl he had asked had thought that he had been flirting with her and he wasn’t actually serious about making a name day cake for the Lady Sansa. It would not have been so bad had the girl actually known how to make lemon cakes. She did not however and Robb had angrily stomped off, going directly to the kitchen and demanding Gage to instruct him how to bake the cake instead.

Gage who wasn’t a baker in the first place, had to concede. Robb had a way, even when he was young, of making people do his bidding.

“It was the first time Robb ever baked anything.” Sansa reminded Jon, suddenly recalling how surprised she had been when Robb had presented it to her. It wasn’t the best looking cake, certainly. It was a little wonky on the side but the lemon filling had been startlingly delicious. “And he’d been so proud! I remember him holding that cake out, grinning like he had just won an important battle.” His grey and white tunic had smudges of flour, but his bright blue eyes had danced happily as she jumped into his arms, kissing him on his cheeks.

“Aye he did.” Jon nodded, settling into the bed, bringing his legs up. He was looking up at her, his eyes darkening at the memory.

They barely talked about Robb and Rickon, the brothers that they have lost. And when their names were mentioned, it was always with a deep pang of regret and loss. It had always filled Sansa with the kind of grief that made her shiver, her bones painfully rattling inside her body. It was so wonderful to reminisce about her beloved brother without automatically thinking of the horrible way she – _they_ – had lost him.

“He kept looking at me though, did you notice that?”

Sansa tilted her head, trying to recall that bright morning of her ninth name day. They have all gathered inside father’s solar and everyone had gasped in surprise when Robb entered the room bringing a plateful of lemon cake, announcing to everyone that he had baked it all by himself, under the strict orders of Gage. Everyone was impressed, even Arya who scoffed at anything that the women folk did in the castle. Arya had looked up at Robb in wonder, clearly forgetting her own disdain for baking.  

Sansa had been truly touched by Robb’s sweetness. They have always been the closest and she loved him dearly. He was her true knight who always catered her whims, no matter how frivolous they were. She often begged him to make her a crown of flowers and Robb always obliged, even when he had begun his sword training and archery lessons. She suspected that Robb was never teased for it because he was Lord Eddard’s son, but knowing Robb, he would not have cared either way. He had always been self-assured and did things without the fear of being scolded or made fun of. Robb never treated her fancies as stupid and annoying. As she grew up, he had been protective of her, sometimes, annoyingly so. He made sure that boys and sometimes even grown men were not staring at her lingeringly, always the first to volunteer and insist that he escort her whenever she wanted to play with Lady at the edge of the woods. Sansa loved Robb for all of that.

But yes, now that Jon had mentioned it, Robb had kept glancing at his way, as though waiting for Jon to do something. Sansa scrunched up her face. “Why was he? I did not think much of it because I had been so excited to taste Robb’s lemon cake.”

“We saw each other that morning. He was just coming back from the kitchen and I from the glass garden.” Jon’s voice had grown softer, he laced his hands over her free hand, bringing it up to his chest and Sansa could feel his heart beating like thunder inside his chest.

“He saw you with the roses.” Sansa correctly guessed. 

“Aye he did and when he gave you the lemon cake, he was waiting for me to give the roses to you, but he didn’t know I already have.”

Sansa snorted playfully. “You didn’t _give_ it to me. You left it in front of my door.”

Jon winced a little. “Do not tease me, wife. I did not know how to give it to you. And I --- I saw something in Robb’s face that morning, when he realized that the flowers were for you.”

Sansa sensed that Jon was saying something important. She looked down on him, noting the somber expression on his face. She wiggled down so she could be eye level with him. Jon was staring at the fire on the hearth and Sansa gently smoothed the frown on his forehead with her fingers. She cupped his jaws, stopping him from clenching it so hard. “Tell me.”

Jon took a deep steadying breath. “I --- I was jealous of Robb, you see. Because he was going to be the Lord of Winterfell and I was just a bastard boy.”

Sansa gently squeezed Jon’s hand. “Everyone knew. Robb knew. He was very careful to never flaunt it and he’d fight anyone who called you bastard.”

Jon nodded. “I know. It was different when we were younger. I wanted to be Lord of Winterfell, too and Robb knew I couldn’t. He didn’t mean to be cruel whenever he reminded me of that it hurt and I got mad because I didn’t want it to hurt.”

“I think, I understand.” Sansa said softly. She had pretended to be a bastard once too, so many years ago and she remembered who lonely it had been. How everyone had looked down upon her, treating her as though she was someone less of a person and it had made her cry at night. She knew how it was to long for something she might never have – _Winterfell, home_. But it had always been hers and she knew in her heart that as a Stark, it did rightfully belong to her; she just needed the courage to retake it. How different it must have been for Jon, who had thought of Winterfell both as a home and as a prison. To have loved it and hated it, to have wanted it must have felt like a terrible betrayal of Father and Robb. Jon would have given up everything for Winterfell, only so he could hand it back to his Stark siblings.  

“When we got older, it did get better. Somewhat. But then all of a sudden, everyone was leaving Winterfell and I," Jon paused, shrugging. "Anyway, I wasn’t just jealous of Robb being the legitimate son and heir of Winterfell.”

Sansa did not understand. She tilted her head, waiting for Jon to explain further. He gave her a half grimace, half pleading look and her eyes widened as she slowly understood.

“You adored Robb so much,” Jon paused to lick his lips, looking suddenly embarrassed, “I wanted you to look at me the way looked at him. Like I was your hero too and that I was brave and strong and when you… when you realized I wasn’t like you and Robb and Arya and Bran and Rickon, you suddenly turned cold. I thought if I gave you a gift, you’d love me as much as you loved Robb, too.”

“Jon, I…” Sansa sighed, staring down at her lap. She wanted to tell Jon that she did love her as she loved Robb, but that would be a lie. The way she loved Robb was absolute because Robb was her brother and she had not known a time when she _hadn’t_ loved Robb. Even when they were children. Even after she had found out that Robb had disinherited her in order to protect the North for the clutches of the Lannisters. Robb was her brother who had been devoted to her and doted upon her and all her memories of Robb had connected her to their happy carefree childhood in Winterfell. The moment she had lost Robb, everything around her had turned into hopeless misery, and still, she loved him the same way as she had when she was four and Robb had taken her hand to walk her across the Godswood.

It was completely different with how she felt towards Jon. Her feelings for Jon had been marked by continued and constant change, sometimes, it was even a struggle. Her love for Jon was _hard work_. There were moments of both darkness and hope, rage and gentleness, arguments and compromise, fights and forgiveness and those long wonderful nights when Jon held her so protectively and so tenderly. Most of all, Jon made her feel that he loved her so because she was _Sansa_ and that was enough for him.

Their love had not been easy, it had not come immediately. It had grown slowly and cautiously but when it had revealed itself, it had the force of a thousand winter storms that had shook her whole world: this was _Jon_ and she loved him and he loved her. Something as simple as that had been so staggering in its significance, probably even more than finding out about Jon’s true parentage. Because there was their truth and their whole world was at war: with wights and dragons, greedy lords and cowardly knights, all ready to snap them up and tear them apart.

Even up until now, Sansa was aware of how short and fleeting everything could be and if it sometimes made her selfish, then she was willing to be selfish. But just with Jon. With everything else, even Winterfell, she would have given it up, forsaken it all just to have Jon by her side. There was nothing as precious as finding love in a world that had been in the brink of fire and destruction and Sansa will hold on to that, to Jon, until her last dying breath.  

Jon let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head, misinterpreting her silence. “I’m saying it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon blinked up at her. “I mean, Robb, he knew. He knew even before I did.”

“He knew what?”

“That I…” Jon swallowed hard, stopping as though carefully choosing the words that he will say. “That I felt differently about you. That I love you, aye, but not as I love Arya.”

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh!”

“Robb had sensed it, I saw it in the way he looked at me, like he felt sorry for me and I felt ashamed. That was why I just left the flowers on your door.”

“Robb never said anything.”

“Do you think, if had he lived, he would have approved?” And suddenly, Sansa saw the insecure boy that had been starved of love and affection. This was the boy that had sulked in corners, always with his defensive attitude and defiant stance. It made everyone else wary of him. This was the sad little boy that Jon had desperately tried to outgrow, deciding to become part of the Knight’s Watch, reluctantly accepting the position of Lord Commander, easily handling his kingship away to ensure the safety of his people and of his family. Jon who would never assume that he belonged, or that he was loved and wanted, but would rather work hard at being indispensable so that he would not have to be alone anymore.

Blue roses forgotten, Sansa took both of Jon’s hand, forcing him to turn his whole body towards her, so that she can lean into him. She searched his face, cupping his jaws, a familiar position, only usually it was Jon’s hand that held her chin up. “Father promised me someone strong and brave and gentle.”

Jon gave her a small smile, gray eyes darkening with passion. “Yes. You’ve told me about that. I still don’t think I am what father – _uncle –_ meant.”

“Shhh.” Sansa placed her finger against his lips. “You are. I promise you, you are. If you have to question me one more time, I swear to the gods, I will ask Ghost to hide your beloved Longclaw.”

Jon chuckled softly. “Aye. I believe you.”

Sansa leaned forward, pressing her forehead against him. “But I promised Robb something before we left for Winterfell, too.”

Jon’s breath hitched at this revelation. They never talked about the day they left Winterfell. It had always been in passing and always with regret. But Sansa remembered Robb standing by her chamber door. His blue, eyes so much like her own, were sad and worried and she had tried to tease the sadness out of it by insisting that Robb should be happy for her, she would become Queen, _his_  Queen. And as Queen, she would demand that her brave older brother frequently visit her at Kings Landing. Robb had given her a reluctant smile, stepping forward to gently cup her chin.

_“You don't have to demand that of me. You know I can never deny you of anything. You be careful over there. I wish I could come and protect you, but I am needed here in Winterfell.”_

Sansa remembered rolling her eyes at how grave Robb had sounded. She had continued to tease him, stepping forward to lean over him, her cheeks pressed against the growing stubble on his bread. She remembered scowling as it scratched her. “Do not be jealous of Joffrey, Robb. You will always be _my_ brave knight. I will always love _you_ best.”

But Robb would not cease being melancholy. He had gripped both her elbow, pushing her a little so he could look into her face, letting her know that he was being serious. _“Promise me Sansa, promise me that you will only love a man that will truly love you because you’re Sansa. And you're imperious but kind. Obstinate but loyal. Annoying but brave. You are a Stark. You’re my sister, you deserve only happiness. Remember that.”_

Sansa had been too young, too excited to leave Winterfell and be part of the royal court to take appreciate Robb’s counsel and concern. Had she known that it would be the last time she will ever see him, she would not have left at all, she would have held on to him and kept him away from war. Instead, she had given Robb a quick peck on the cheeks, letting him hug her. He held her tightly.

_“I’ll miss you, Sansa.”_

“I’ll miss you too, Robb. But you’re squeezing too hard and you’re going to wrinkle my best dress!” She had playfully complained and it took Robb a whole second before he let go. Once again, he reminded her of her promise, asking her to say it back to him, just to be sure that she’d remember: “Yes, alright Robb. I shall only marry a man who will love me because I’m imperious and obstinate and all the rest of my annoying qualities.”  

“I do love all of your annoying qualities.” Jon interrupted her, looking at her with so much love, Sansa felt tears suddenly pricking her eyes.

She nodded her head, smiling happily. “I know.” She moved forward to kiss Jon on the lips and then she told Jon, with the surety of her own love for him: “And Robb knows it too.”

Jon let out a breath of relief. He tightened his hold on her, the bouquet of blue roses crushed between them as he rolled her over to kiss her all over her face. “Thank you, Sansa. I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
